Condolences
by Z.A.G
Summary: Years after leaving the Teen Titans, a now adult Richard Grayson struggles with the death of The Batman and what decisions that need to be made in regard of the legacy. Caught between seeking revenge against The Joker and whether or not he should take up the cape and cowl, an old friend is there to aid him along the way.
1. Reflection

_Summary: Years after leaving the Teen Titans, a now adult Richard Grayson struggles with the death of The Batman and what decisions that need to be made in regard of the legacy. Caught between seeking revenge against The Joker and whether or not he should take up the cape and cowl, an old friend is there to aid him along the way. _

Chapter 1: Reflection

Being a masked vigilante, I've seen a lot of things in my life. Not that I wish to sound melodramatic but there was a lot of horrible things that I had to grow up with and see. My parents were murdered when I was just a kid. Bruce Wayne, who inevitably turned my entire life around, adopted me. For you see, Bruce Wayne turned out to be The Batman. He took me under his wing and trained me to fight the type of crime in Gotham City that had killed my parents.

I was his sidekick for a large number of years and I guess you could say I eventually grew into a rebellious stage in my life because I wanted to get out and make a name for myself. Step out of the Dark Knight's shadow and fight crime on my own terms. That's how I ended up in Jump City and formed the Teen Titans. Cyborg, Raven, Beastboy, Starfire, and I were part of a team that really earned its name with me as their leader. We had are differences but I like to think that we all were friends, heck even family. I may not have ever really gave them as much detail of my life as they have. They never knew the name outside of Robin and in my later years as Nightwing, after I left the Teen Titans; but I always thought back on each of them with fond memories.

Regardless of that, the point is, in my career of crime fighting I have seen things. I never gave up the fight regardless of the odds and have made mistakes along the way. Thanks to Bruce's training I felt that I was prepared to face any obstacle along the way. I know I'm not invincible but I felt that a logical trained strategist could think of any way around trouble. Anything but this one…

Batman is dead…

The Joker apparently had gotten the last laugh in their latest struggle. Apparently he managed to poison Bruce. The Joker is locked away in Arkam Asylum and the death of the Batman isn't public knowledge. I had gotten word from Alfred that Bruce made it back to the Bat Cave before dying. Apparently he had attempted to get back to the cave in hopes of creating some sort of antidote. The question raised from Alfred as what to do about Bruce and the Caped Crusader?

I got to Gotham the next day and announced Bruce Wayne's death publically. To protect the rest of the vigilante family we announced his private jet crashed outside of Peru (I made sure to make evidence to pass this knowledge). We held a funeral a week later. It had been a small gathering involving the family and the very few who knew of Batman's identity. There was still no answer to the second riddle, "What do we do about Batman?"

No one would say it but I knew that everyone was looking to me for the answer. As the oldest and first sidekick it fell to me to take up the mantle. I spent a large number of years fighting to get out of the Dark Knight's shadow and now everyone was looking to me to bury myself in it. Drop the Nightwing gig and pick up the Batman's mantle. I gave no answer that week or the month that followed but I did stay at Wayne Manor to smooth things over with Bruce's will. He had left a majority of his will to me and that included the company.

Being buried in personal business such as that doesn't make me feel better and it's times like those that I really miss the days of being a Teen Titan. I would shelter myself in my room and do research on cases to keep myself busy; all the while I would wallow in my misery for whatever reason. Regardless of the reason, someone from the team would eventually come to my door to cheer me up or simply kick me right out of my mope. Mostly it had been Raven as she would never believe the 'I'm working on a case' excuse. Being an empath ensured her to know when something was bothering me I suppose. She once mentioned that her empathy powers had grown after Trigon and it made her more in tune with everyone's emotions. While she hardly displayed any outward emotion, all the members of the team knew that her reclusive or indifferent responses or solutions were out of the goodness of her heart.

She and I had a mental bond that formed once during our times as Teen Titans which she created in order to save me from Slade at one point. It was a strong bond that made the two of us more in tune with where each of us were on the battlefield. She hadn't been sure if it was a permanent thing or not but it lasted all the way through our Titan career. On rare occasions, even after years apart, I sometimes think to myself that I feel that bond. Out of all the Titans, she had been the one that I had kept up with the least; as in not at all. She had apparently left the Titans shortly after I had and no one had heard from her since. She gave no warning and no means of contacting her. Cyborg had tried locating her trying to find out if she was kidnapped or killed. After a year he had located her briefly or rather, she located him to simply tell him that she was fine and not to worry.

The library on Wayne Estate had turned to favored location of mine since the funeral. I find myself standing in it more often than not just looking at the portrait of Bruce's parents. How often had Bruce stood on this very spot and gaze at their images? I had caught him doing it more times than not with a tortured expression. It was like every time he thought about hanging up the cape and cowl he would look at their image and remember why he fought crime in the first place.

I hadn't gone down to the cave in all the time since I've been back. I kept my uniform in my old room. The cave felt like a foreign place to me now or perhaps just something sacred. I couldn't bring myself to step into there or into the master bedroom for that matter. Alfred had been attending all the details of keeping things clean and checking things out in Arkham Asylum through the main computer down in the Bat Cave. If anything came up he would tell me but nothing worthy of note had transpired since I came around. It felt like the criminal world subconsciously knew that The Batman is dead and they were given their respectful silence to their fallen adversary.

Some have claimed that the Batman was the very cause of the super villains that terrorize Gotham City; that if there were no Batman then there would be no super villain. They would have no worthy opponent or no need to go beyond any sane plan for crime if there was no caped crusader to foil their plans. As foolish as that idea sounds, I can't help but question if there is any word of truth in it at times.

"Some days I find myself expecting Master Wayne to come up from the cave." I heard Alfred say at the entrance to the door.

"Yeah."

"I had hoped that you would have all outlived this old man." I don't say anything because there's no right response to it. "He was always proud of you Master Grayson, he really did view you as his son."

Bruce and I never saw eye-to-eye and our disagreements were not a secret. We had a falling out and our communications between one another grew sparse and far between over the years. The fact that he left me so much to his name was a surprise; although it's a wonder if he just never got the time to change his will.

"I…always imagined The Joker would get him…" I admit, "But I always imagined it would be the end of The Joker as well. Like… Batman would sacrifice himself to save the city by taking the Joker down with him. Instead that maniac lives and Bruce is dead." In my anger my fist strikes one of the bookshelves in front of me. I had been bottling up my anger and hatred for that clown since I found out how Bruce had died. In the first week I hoped the clown would escape Arkham to give me the pleasure of finding him and offing him. The clown has yet to break out or any other villain for that matter. Perhaps the latter is a good thing since I'm not sure how I would deal with any of the criminals for that matter.

"…a letter came for you sir." He held out a letter and I took it but didn't really look at it. It was likely more paperwork that I needed to look over that would just be tossed to the side without a second glance. Alfred moved towards the door but not before looking to the portrait of the late Waynes. "I can't help but think I've disappointed them somehow."

"_Me too."_

The doubts were there. What if I had been there? What if I was with Batman? What if I had just listened to Bruce and went back to Gotham City to fight by his side? He wouldn't have been killed. I could have saved him. There were infinite possibilities on how I could have helped but instead I was off on my own. Off working a job as a Detective and a vigilante at night. Trying to make a name of myself. Tired of working on a team and wanting to strike out on my own for a change.

I release a breath and glance down at the letter. _Richard_ is written across the envelope and the address is from Gotham City. It doesn't appear to be one of the stiff formal letters of condolences from the higher ups in Wayne Tower or some official paperwork involving the transfer of ownership of Bruce's various things to me. I rip the envelope open and unfold the letter inside. The handwriting is neat, likely written with a quill pen, something uncommon in the age of technology but it feels a bit more personal and intimate in that fashion. The letter is short, one phrase.

_I'm sorry to hear about your loss._

_ Sincerely, _

_ R. Roth_

I felt the gears turning in my head as I worked out the name. It took me a good twenty seconds before I came up with 'Rachel Roth' as in Rachel 'Raven' Roth of the Teen Titans. I looked at the envelope once again to double-check that I hadn't read the address wrong before. Sure enough, it was an address located in Gotham City. Raven is living in Gotham City and for some time now if she has an address as well. It's only after this realization that I come up with the other one: she knows who I am.

This fact comes as a bit of a surprise as I had never told any of the Teen Titans of my identity. There are very few in the inner circle of superheroes that know my identity and it's not like we pass that information like high school gossip. The identity is a sacred and intimate knowledge that one shares when you truly trust another at your back. I never got the chance to share that knowledge with the Teen Titans or I simply never felt it was important. To them, I was Robin and that was the important thing. I dated Starfire for a short while but she never knew my name either. We didn't last long for that matter. She got called back to her planet from what I hear.

But Raven? How did she know who I am? And after so many years, that's all she can write? I don't know if I should feel insulted that she can't think to write something else or not surprised at all. No… this is Raven. There is always more meaning to what Raven says. She had stayed hidden from the rest of us for a good long while so it's hard to say what it is.

I stare at the letter and the envelope for a long while before I start to use my detective skills to deduce the message further. She's sorry for my loss. That much is apparent. She had spent the last six or seven years disappearing into the world and not giving a single word to any of her former teammates. Out of the blue she writes me a letter and mails it to me. She lives in Gotham based on her address.

That's it… The address is on the envelope. She could have very well dropped the mail in our mailbox herself or not have a return address on the envelope. She could have remained hidden from the world but the fact that she is freely giving her address meant something. Raven always took an extra thought or two in order to understand her actions. The address is an invitation to… what? To write? To visit?

"I wonder…"


	2. Broken Bond

_CHAPTER TWO: Broken Bond_

_Dear R. Roth,_

_Thank you for the letter and it's great to hear from you—_

_Dear Ms. Roth,_

_How have you been these years? Out of all our friends you are the one I haven't heard from. It seems that no one else has heard from you either. Would you like to—_

_To Whom it May Concern,_

_ I received your letter—_

_Dear Raven,_

_ While it was a surprise to receive a letter from you, the greater surprise was seeing the return address. Is the address accurate and you are located here in Gotham City? If so, perhaps you'd like to get together sometime and catch-up. None of us have heard from you for quite some time. I could use someone to talk to as well but I understand if you have a lot going on with your life. Also how long have you known about my identity? _

_Raven,_

_ Why are you in Gotham City? Have you been here long? Why haven't you contacted me before?_

I must have written a good dozen or so letters before giving up on the whole idea of just writing Raven a reply via letter. It'd been a week since I received the letter from her and I still couldn't figure out the proper way to write a response. Her letter had been so simple and left very little open for interpretation or discussion. No follow up content to allow me to even delve into a subject. There's also the issue regarding the things I wanted to discuss with her in the first place. Delicate information such as our endeavors of being vigilantes isn't really safe to be written and sent in the mail.

In the end I decided to just head straight to the heart of the matter and that's what led me into Gotham Cities Residential District. The address on the envelope came from one of the many apartments that the district has to offer. It's located in the northern section of the district—not a bad neighborhood but not the best either. The citizens that are better off but not rich generally live in this district. Still, the district has its share of troubles and thugs that like to slink about in the night. I had contemplated just visiting her under the guise of Nightwing but decided to go as Richard Grayson. After all, she knows my name already so there's very little reason for me to hide under a mask anymore.

I arrived around five at night. I hadn't been certain if Raven worked anywhere or if she kept to herself. Seeing how she owns an apartment, I assume she's getting funding from somewhere. Five seemed like a rather safe time in case she does have some sort of job. I can say that she hasn't been doing any vigilante work because there's been no mention of her in the papers or from my network of connections for that matter. I can only assume she disappeared by blending in with civilians.

I headed up the stoop and knocked on the door that had the address. I double-checked with the address on the envelope before doing so to ensure that I'm at the right location. On the other side of the door I received the sound of a dog barking which is peculiar since I never saw Raven as the type to keep a dog or a pet of any type for that matter. After waiting a minute I attempt to knock again with no response. "Hmm… Not home I guess."

"Can I help you?" I nearly jump out of my skin from the voice behind me. I quickly turn around to face the person with the voice. It's Raven, clearly. Even in her current attire I can tell it's her. There's no mistaking the dark hair and eyes. Not to mention her voice, while more mature sounding, still held that dry monotone to it. Her outfit is definitely a change from the leotard and cape that she used to wear. The black suit jacket looked finely tailored as well as the white blouse underneath from a quick observation. She had apparently opted for a pair of pants rather than a business skirt to go with the outfit. It makes me wonder what she's been doing or working as to actually have such an outfit on. And is that a purse?

"Hi!" I respond awkwardly. I refrain from using 'Raven' since she's clearly trying to blend in and I have no idea what her protocol is these days are. The letter had been signed 'R. Roth'. Is she using Rachel Roth these days?

She arches a brow in response, "Can I help you?"

"Um… I got your letter?" I hold up the envelope as evidence.

She looks to the object in my hand and traces the paper back to my face before looking to the envelope. After a moment she looks a bit uncomfortable about the whole thing. Odd… "Richard Grayson…?"

It's my turn to arch an eyebrow at her. "Yeah…I was going to write back but it seemed too weird."

I think she mumbled 'and this isn't?' under her breath but I can't be sure, "I didn't think you'd be visiting people who mailed out those letters."

"What do you mean? What letters?"

"The letters from all the employees?" She sounded annoyed that she has to actually explain herself, "It was announced that you'd be taking over Wayne Enterprises as part of Mr. Wayne's will. As a courtesy we were all supposed to write a letter."

The arm holding up the envelope slowly lowers as things slowly dawn on me. Raven worked for Bruce's company! That explains the smart outfit she's wearing and the letter. Wait! That means she doesn't know who I am or my secret identity. I am such an idiot. And now I look like a total idiot standing here gaping at her like a fish. I need to think of something fast to explain this whole mess. "Oh… I received no such notice that your letter came from the company. My butler handed it to me."

She simply stared at me in response. I can't decide if she's waiting for me to explain further or for me to simply leave. I run a hand through my hair awkwardly, "I… wait. I'm taking over Wayne Enterprises?" When the hell had that been decided?

Pretty sure I heard 'rich and stupid' mumbled from her direction, "As far as we have been told sir."

"Please, call me Dick. I'm not much older than you." This I know for a fact.

"I'd rather not, sir."

"Why?"

"You're my boss." She states this as if she's talking to someone stupid.

"What if I don't take the job?" She shrugs. This isn't helping any.

"…Can I help you with anything else?" Leave. That's what she's saying. She's simply telling me to leave, I can hear it in her tone. She's getting anxious to get into her place. She likely just worked all day and probably intended to get home and relax for a few hours or meditate or do whatever it is that Raven does these days. Hell, I don't know.

"I wish." I fall onto the steps in a messy heap he drop my head into my hands. This is so not going the way that I envisioned it. Hell, I didn't even envision a scenario. I simply went headfirst into this whole thing without a plan in mind. "I don't even know what I'm doing here now. You must think I'm crazy or something."

"I try not to judge others."

"Heh." I'm not sure if she had attempted at a joke or if she had been serious with her statement but I took it for what its worth. It's funny really. Here stands someone whom I lived with for a couple of years, felt like family with, but kept far enough away that she doesn't recognize me outside of my uniform and a few years of being apart. Funny how much lonelier I feel now than I did back in the empty manor. I considered telling her but then I wondered what good it would do if I even did. Somewhere between my debate of rushing home to let my misery swallow me there or staying at her stoop for a few hours to stare moderately interested at the sidewalk, I realized that Raven had actually disappeared and the dog stopped barking. Apparently she doesn't find someone wallowing in their own pity to be an interesting pastime.

Then there's the whole 'taking over Wayne Enterprises' thing. I mean, it's not like I hadn't heard of it. I know some papers had come my way to look over that dealt with the thing but I hadn't signed anything or made any outward suggestions that I would take it over. Did the people running it just simply assume that I would take over? I know next to nothing of running a small business much less a goliath of a company like Wayne Enterprises. Did Bruce intend to drown me to death in all the things he left for me to take up? Just thinking about having to take responsibility for that company boggles my mind. I don't even know how Bruce did it.

"Here." I glance up at her voice but have to look over my shoulder to see her holding out a mug toward me. Apparently the look on my face matched my feeling of confusion because she ended up rolling her eyes, "It's tea." Of course it is, "After starring at you sitting there silently for ten minutes I figured you could use it."

"Oh… thanks." Had I really zoned out that long? I cradle the hot mug in both hands and take a sip of it. Earl Grey. I never drank much tea but I recall she drank the stuff as much as I drank coffee; perhaps even more so.

"Want to talk about it?"

_Yes and no._ "You have a dog." I state plainly.

"Keen observation detective."

I shoot her a questionable look, "How did—"

"Heir to the Wayne Throne? There's talk. Everyone knows you work as one."

"Oh… I don't even have a private life when I'm outside of Gotham it seems."

"You'd probably have to go to another country… one with no forms of social media for that matter."

"I don't know how Bruce did it." Well, I do. He simply blended with all the media and reporters. Showed his face like he's supposed to and gallivanted as the billionaire bachelor. It worked well for him but I don't think I could ever do that. I don't even want to try.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't know how anyone does it."

I take another sip of the tea before deciding that I can't drink it and offer it back to her, "Thanks for the tea, but no thanks."

"Problem?"

"….It sucks."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not much of a tea drinker."

"Let me guess, coffee."

"Wouldn't pass up coffee."

"Of course. How foolish of me to offer someone working with the law tea. To think stereotypes hold water."

Now I'm certain she's just trying to cheer me up. Oddly enough, I'm actually quite happy with that so I offer up a smile, "Well, if you have any donuts in there…"

"Fresh out."

"Damn."

She's starring at me again. I think she knows that she's helping and it takes me a couple of moments to realize why she would know that. When we were Titans she was known for her empathic abilities, and one of those abilities allowed her to read another's emotion. I never really understood it too greatly but I gathered that she could feel the emotions of others. I always found it odd considering she spent a majority of her time trying not to let her emotions run amuck because her powers were based on controlling her emotions. "You look like you have a question on your mind." I state.

"Why did you come here?"

"Uh…"

"You said you received my letter."

"I did."

"In what way did my letter come off as an invitation to stalk my address?"

"Are you mad?"

"Confused is more like it."

"Can I plea the fifth?"

"You can try."

"I don't know then? The letter seemed so informal and personal that I thought you might have been someone I knew…"

"Personal in what way?"

"You handwrote it."

"And that makes it personal?"

"Most people send emails these days and if they do send a letter it's printed out from their computer. You used calligraphy. People don't do that anymore unless there's a special reason for it."

"Maybe they should. People are lazy."

"Right. So R. Roth is…?"

"Rachel Roth."

"I'm not hearing a 'Mrs.'"

"You never will."

"What? A lovely young woman like you? Wait, are you—"

"I'm fairly certain it's none of your business." She cuts me off before I can finish the question. She looks annoyed and I'm just feeling sort of pleased with myself for riling her up. I'm pretty sure she's just being polite now because I could be her future boss.

"Just trying to pay the lady a compliment."

"The lady doesn't want one."

"Not even as a 'thank you'?"

"If that's the reason for the compliment, then it's not much of a compliment." Hmm, that's true. It does sound like I'm only giving her a compliment as a means of a thank you.

"What if I asked you out to dinner?" She arched a brow at that.

"How is that a compliment?"

"It's not. It's a 'thank you', for the tea."

"Tea which has gone to waste."

"It's the thought that counts."

"I'd rather offer tea than have you mope on my doorstep all night."

"I wasn't moping."

"You looked like a lost puppy."

"Not a lost bird?"

"Birds don't get lost. And there's no birds in Gotham."

"Oh I don't know, I think I saw a raven or two recently." Test.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"To your question. The answer is no."

"Can I ask why?"

"'It's the thought that counts.'" She states with a smirk, "The thought is well enough. I'd rather not spend another awkward night with you, no offense."

"Ouch. Burn the ego why don't you."

"I'm sure you'll recover when a lot of the single women in Gotham City come pounding on your door."

"Why I do think the lady paid me a compliment."

She raises a brow again before giving a rather flat reply, "I'm fairly certain most will be cougars." Ouch.

"Where do you work?"

"I think we went over this."

I roll my eyes and stand up. I take a moment to dust off any dirt from my pants, "I mean in the company. Where do you work?"

"Am I fired?"

"No."

"I do mundane secretarial work. Mostly filing."

"And where do you want to work in the company?"

She smirks again, "Mundane secretarial work. Mostly filing."

"No aspirations for anything higher?"

"I don't deal well with people."

"Then why take the job in the first place?"

"It was offered to me."

"By who?"

"Bruce Wayne."

I hate to ask, but I have to know, "Did you and he…"

"No."

"How did he go about offering you the job?"

"He asked."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then ask what you mean."

"Where did he meet you?"

"In Gotham."

Okay, now I'm convinced that there's more story to this. Either Bruce had found Raven in Gotham City at some point or another, knew of her as Raven from Teen Titans and offered her a job since she wanted to quit or… no… It simply had to be that. Any other way would be too coincidental and Bruce never had coincidences like this. In fact, I'm fairly certain that Raven doesn't even know Bruce was Batman because if she does, she would know who I am. She's not stupid and she's always been pretty good at making deductions of her own.

My phone started ringing and I excused myself, "Yeah Alfred?"

"Sir, you wished to be notified the moment something urgent popped up."

"Yeah, and?"

I could literally feel the tension coming from his end of the line and braced myself, "It would seem The Joker has escaped Arkham, sir."

"Thanks." I hang up and stare at the phone. Previous tension in my shoulders returns as I think about what to do next.

"Bad news, I assume."

"It never is. I have to go."

"…Night."

I start to walk away and I hear her shuffle on the stoop as she turns toward the door. Halfway to my car I feel something in the back of my mind, like a ghostly caress. I only half noticed it, but noticed for what it is. It's an old feel that I had thought died out, had basically warn off. I decided to ignore it.

"Mr. Grayson?"

I stop and turn around. The feeling disappears again and Raven is staring. I wonder if she felt it too. I decide to try and act natural. There's no real reason to do otherwise at the moment, "Yes?"

She seems a bit caught off guard, like she hadn't expected me to stop or question her. Or she had simply called out my name by accident because now she looks like she's caught between two extremely awkward places. She can either question or come up with some sort of excuse, "I'm sorry about Mr. Wayne. Gotham won't be the same without him." Dodge.

I frown, "No… It won't be." She has no idea how horrifying that statement truly is. I climb into the car and take off. No doubt there will be a clown to take care of soon.


	3. Grief and Anger

Thank you everyone who has shown an interest in this story and special thanks for those of you who have left such wonderful reviews. To be honest, I'm not sure where I'm taking it, I have no long list of things that need to be done, I'm simply taking it where it freely goes. So the story is as exciting for me as it is for you. Anyway, here is the next chapter, hope you enjoy.

Grief and Anger

"_Hellooo Gotham! Did you miss me? Because I hear you all have been in a sour mood lately ever since that billionaire man-child Bruce Wayne kicked the can."_

Fantastic. Just what we need. The clown out of the nuthouse again.

"_Well don't worry, Uncle Joker is sure to put a smile back on your faces. But you know what? I'm kind of sad about the chap dying on us too. To think, I never even robbed the poor guy, never gave him a one of a kind Joker wedgie! What an opportunity that would have been. Well I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll just do it soon. Make up for the lost chance the two of us had to have a good time! Hear that Bats?! I'm giving you a hint! Ta ta, cheerio Gotham!" _Click.

Some days I hate Gotham City, other's I'm okay with it. It's days like today with that clown painting his face all over the networks that makes me wonder if I should just get back into the whole vigilante business. Normally the antics of the criminals in Gotham City don't really bother me all that much unless they personally involve me, which they haven't. The Batman is able to take care of anything that comes to Gotham City, which means I don't ever have to involve myself. It makes keeping a low profile that much easier. The only problem I have this time is the fact that the clown's antics and attention is directed at the late Mr. Wayne.

Honestly, I likely wouldn't have been able to disappear into the civilian life had it not been for Mr. Wayne. Had he not given me the job, even if it was a favor to The Batman, I wouldn't have much choice but continue the very same lifestyle I had as a Titan. Yes, the lifestyle of having to dress up in a suit and go to work everyday had been difficult to do at first but I'm satisfied with a constant routine. Not happy. Just…satisfied. Balanced. I don't have to constantly watch my control because I'm living a life full of stress. Fighting crime almost everyday with little to no rest between training and all the racket from the Titans didn't make a happy medium for me. Toward the end of my Titan career I barely had time to meditate.

So yes, I do owe Mr. Wayne a great deal. Aside from The Batman, Mr. Wayne was the only one that had been aware of who I was. He seemed more than happy to offer me a job that I'd be satisfied with as long as it meant that it got me out of the line of vigilante work. I can't recall the last time I even wore my old uniform and I have a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn't exactly fit in it anymore either. I…grew a little from when I was a teen. 'Raven' is no more, as that persona had been hung up with the uniform and tucked away. Rachel Roth is who I am now, an average joe.. or Jane for that matter.

Despite the threat that The Joker publically made, I'm not the least bit concerned about going to work. For me, I knew that The Batman would always be able to stop that weirdo before anything catastrophic happens. The Batman earned my respect when he pointed me in the direction of Bruce Wayne and said he'd ask a favor of him on my behalf. Of course I had been skeptical when it happened. It's not like I have any sort of resume or past experience outside of crime fighting that would qualify me for any job, much less within the corporate world of Wayne Industries.

Wonders never cease. Even today I can only imagine what had been going on through Mr. Wayne's head when he decided to hire me. I'm content with the routine of catching a train and heading straight for Wayne Tower. I'm content with making a pit stop every morning at the coffee shop just a block away from the tower to get drinks for everyone I tolerate on my floor even if I don't drink the stuff. I suppose my only concern is with Bruce Wayne gone, would I be able to keep my job? I'm surprised I held it this long. I made plenty of mistakes in the past years. I think my supervisor hated me at first since she had to teach me the simplest of things. Now the two of us get along just fine. Once I learn how to do something, I'm an efficient worker and I always get things done on time.

Like every morning, the ride takes an hour to get there and fifteen minutes in a crowded line at the coffee shop before I'm walking through the entrance to Wayne Tower. The place is usually busy but I can sense the unease everyone is feeling. I'm not the only one that had gotten the message this morning, it had been broadcasted on the news. I ignored the onslaught of emotions and caught the elevator to the third floor. I made my way to my cubicle, dropping off drinks along the way while catching snip bits of conversation.

"I swear I saw him"

"Come on… really?"

"He caught the elevator before I did."

"I don't know, he hasn't been seen here even once."

I ignored it. If it's one thing I never got involved with it's the office gossip. I never cared to involve myself in the business of other when I was a Titan and that hadn't been changed even after working for the Wayne Industries for a few years. Sometimes I listened for lack of anything better to do but most of the time the employees talking about complete nonsense or it's just information that I didn't need to know; nor should they have been speaking of such things in an office environment, or any environment in my opinion.

"Rachel." I stand up from my cubicle and look over to where my supervisor is standing. I don't do much more than glance her way as acknowledgement as I wait for orders. I don't have to wait long, "I need you to go to the top floor and collect any loose files from Mr. Wayne's office. We'll need to figure out where the files get sent to from there."

After a short nod I move toward the elevator once more. Mr. Wayne's office is located on the top floor, which is actually his penthouse. I've never actually been up there except for the first day I arrived in Wayne Tower for the interview. Apparently not many people go up to the room unless there's a party that Mr. Wayne has thrown. There have been plenty of parties since I've started working here but I never go to them. Too much noise, too many people, and a party calls for too much social interaction. Three things that are on my list of things to avoid.

I reach the top but when I get to the door leading into the office I come across a small problem. It's locked. I also don't happen to have a key. Like I said, it's a small problem but after a quick survey around the area I simply phase through the door and onto the other side of the door and into the empty office. Rather, it's supposed to be empty, but imagine my surprise when I find that another inconvenience happens my way in the form of Richard Grayson on the other side.

He hasn't noticed me yet I don't think. He probably assumes no one else would get into the room since it's locked. He must have locked it when he stepped in. I believe this marks the first time that he's arrived at the tower. To my knowledge anyway. He's standing behind Bruce's desk with his back turned toward the door as he looks out to the vast cityscape of Gotham City. Seeing how he's here and I technically shouldn't be since he must have locked it for a reason, I turn away and prepare to head pass through the door again before he realizes I'm in the room. I don't need another awkward confrontation with him. Yesterday had been enough.

"Pleasure to see you again, Ms. Roth."

I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of his voice. If I wasn't so trained on controlling my emotion I might very well have. I quickly turn around only to see he hadn't turned around himself. Odd… how had he known I was here? "Excuse me, Mr. Grayson." I mumble off in my most polite neutral speech, "I was sent to collect some files to be processed."

He turned around then and I found my gaze lowering to his shoulder and away from his eyes. He looked tired, worn, as if he hadn't slept all night. Something was troubling him. I can feel it. Something was tantalizingly depressing and putting him in a morbid mood. I could feel the demonic blood begin to surge as if it hungered to taste the misery. Concentrate. Concentrate. Breathe in, out. In and out. I don't even need three guesses to figure out what has gotten him in such a tizzy.

"Old files of Bruce's?"

"…Would anyone else have files in his office?" He gave me a look, "I mean… yes." I find myself rolling my eyes. I'm still having a hard time accepting the fact that he's my new boss or could be…or will be… maybe. I don't know what going on anymore.

"Don't bother. I'll be taking them." He moved to sit at the large desk. It looked like it wanted to swallow him in his chair. He's clearly out of his element in the chair.

"Fine. I'll be going then." I turn to leave.

"Exactly how did you get in, Ms. Roth?" I bite my tongue and turn back to look in his direction. He's smiling but it's hard to say if it's genuine. I think he's just trying to play nice at the moment but his eyes are definitely telling me that they are expecting an answer.

"Through the door." Not a lie. I didn't use the door, I DID go through it.

"I recall locking it. I didn't hear you even enter."

"…They gave me a key."

"May I see it?"

"…why?"

"To be honest, I don't want anyone having a key to this room except for myself. I can't be too careful."

"…You'll have to bring the matter up to someone higher than me. I just do what I'm told."

"Regardless, the key please."

"…No."

"No?"

"Are you taking over Mr. Wayne's place?"

"….I haven't decided yet."

At this I smile, "Then the key stays with me, as it belongs to the people who require access to this area. By all rights, you're just a guest until you figure out otherwise."

He crosses his arms and strangely enough, he's smiling. "That's a fair statement I suppose." Even if it wasn't, you weren't getting the key because there isn't one.

"Did you watch the news this morning, Ms. Roth."

I'm getting pretty sick of this 'Ms. Roth' stuff. It sounds awful. "Yes."

He stands up from the desk again and turns toward the windows once more, "Are you afraid?"

"….should I be?"

"The Joker has hinted that he will be targeting this tower. It could happen today, tomorrow, or any other day from now. That doesn't concern you?"

"…No."

He turns around to stare at me. I focus on his shoulder again, "Well… what do you plan to do if he does attack the tower?"

"…Let security deal with it."

"And if security isn't able to deal with him, then what?"

"They'd likely slow him down enough for the Batman to arrive and take care of him."

"….and if the Batman doesn't arrive?"

"…Then I guess he'll kill us all."

"That's not funny. This is serious."

"I'm not trying to be funny. I don't do jokes. Realistically speaking, that's what the Joker would do. It's what he always does. The city would be better off without him, but there's not much anyone can do about it. The Batman catches him, then he breaks out, and the cycle continues."

"…Maybe it won't continue like that anymore. Batman was just a man, men can be killed."

I arch a brow at the past tense but decide to ignore it. I'm not here to correct his grammar or tutor him for that matter. He's supposedly well off, so he should have received a fairly adequate education during his upbringing. Whether he applies his education or not is none of my business. "Doesn't seem to have stopped him yet."

"You're very optimistic about it, aren't you?"

I dignify that comment with a snort, "Realistic is more like it. I'm just stating what always happens."

"Hmm." He stifled a yawn and the weariness he had displayed earlier came back in full blow. He likely hadn't slept well since the news of Bruce, that is a common reaction of losing someone… at least I believe so.

"Perhaps you should go home and rest, sir."

"I can't. Not while the Joker threatens Bruce's company. The news story was the second threat. I received the first last night."

"The phone call?" He had received a phone call last night and by the looks of it, it had been bad news. I suppose if the Joker had singled him out, he would have reason to be worried enough not to sleep all night.

"…In a matter of speaking." I arch a brow. What's that supposed to mean.

"Perhaps you should speak with the police then." It seems like the reasonable thing to do in my mind. There's at least one or two competent officers on the force.

"Ms. Roth, are you guilty of something?"

Where did that come from? "Why?"

"You have not looked me directly in the eyes."

Huh… he's more observant than I gave him credit for. Whatever. It's not like it matters anyway. I can just play off the timid employee who is just intimidated by the presence of the company's owner. Why not? Everyone else can even if it is ridiculous.

He moved from around the desk and approached. Okay, maybe acting isn't necessary. Why the hell is he coming closer? It takes every ounce of energy not to sink into the floor (literally) or throw him across the room when he invades my personal bubble. Does he seriously not know about personal bubbles and how one shouldn't invade another's? It's my bubble, stay the hell out of it.

My arm twitched when he placed a single finger under my chin and lift my gaze just enough to look into his eyes. His eyes are glassy with exhaustion, he looks like a complete and utter mess and he's wearing the same clothes as last night like a slob. Yet I… despite how dangerous it is for me to do so, I feel _something_ when our gazes lock and in the back of my mind something turns over, like a long forgotten engine trying to start up.

My hand reacts on it's own and swats his away from my face and I take a step away from him. Is this considered sexual harassment? Can I sue him? He has plenty of money so I'm sure he'll be fine with the bill. I'm more annoyed and agitated than anything and I freely display it on my own face. He's smiling that stupid smile of his and I feel like it wouldn't be totally unjust to throw the desk at him. At the rate things are going, something is going to explode whether I'm a willful cause of it or not. I quickly grab my center and control myself before something does happen.

"Have I offended you, Ms. Roth?"

"Only my sense of smell." I reply flatly.

He takes a step back as well and I feel a whole lot better with the distance. I turn towards the door and grab the handle, ready to make my escape from this wretched room with that irritating man. He is no Bruce Wayne and he clearly hadn't been trained by Bruce about common courtesy or whatever else he should have picked up from him.

"Before you go, can I ask you something?"

"Can I stop you?" No.

"If you were in my position, what would you do?"

"…Pertaining to what, exactly?"

"The Joker."

"Call the police."

"They've never been able to stop them on their own."

"Then I suggest investing in a Bat Signal like they have, and have him come." I feel a surge of grief come from his direction, enough to make me look over my shoulder to the man in question. There is another emotion that is hidden under the layer of grief that I can't pinpoint. He looks exactly as he did moments before but the emotions are in turmoil and I find myself practically swimming in them. I chance a look to his eyes and I find the emotion. Everything else is hidden in the body but the eyes can never hide that kind of emotion, no matter how many years of training someone has. I feel my mind ease its way toward his and it's surprisingly easy to slip into his thoughts when I don't even mean to; as if I've been there before. The vision of grief comes to play and I find myself standing near a stone slab with a single light from above casting a circle around the table. On top of the slab of stone lays Bruce Wayne, dead with a frozen smile. I hear maniacal laughter in the surrounding, sounding very much like the laughter of The Joker on the television this morning.

I don't remember releasing my hold on the handle or when I turned around completely to face him but I felt like a fly to an open flame, a bond being pulled together and this time it's him who breaks the eye contact. It's enough to free me from the haunting charm that seemed to have come over me. I swallow the lump in my throat only to realize that my mouth has run dry. What was that a vision of exactly? The reports were that Bruce Wayne died in a plane accident and that there were no remains. But that vision…

Underneath the grief I feel a spark of the other layer of emotion. It's the most dangerous one of all for me to experience. I unlock the door and slip out of the office without another word to escape that room of emotions. I can only handle so much at a time. It's not until four floors down on that I no longer feel the grief pouring over me in waves with the heated caress like an open flame following it in the form of the emotion rage. Underneath the sorrow and calm exterior, underneath it all Richard Grayson is feeling rage that is frightening to think of. He seems to be at odds with what to feel so for now he is likely burying his rage with his grief. One of these days it will consume him at the rate he's going. The demon inside me finds that emotion tantalizingly sweet. People have been angry around me before, but that emotion… he feels it in such a magnitude that my blood was practically singing with it.

He needs help. That is not a mental diagnosis. He needs help so that it helps me. He needs to get rid of that emotion if he's going to be around because I'm not exactly sure what would happen if that emotion became the primary one he feels and it's not something he's trying desperately to hide. He's likely too stubborn to seek help on his own, most people are. I should know, I'm one of them. As much as I loath to think of doing such a thing, I needed to do something myself in order to maintain a semblance of normalcy. I'm going to have to cheer him up. Ugh… I already tried that with tea. Isn't tea supposed to be the cure for all of life's troubles? It is for me.

Some days I miss having Beast Boy around for me to toss out a window. That always made me feel better.


	4. Confrontation of the Deadly Sort

_Confrontation of the Deadly Sort_

When the Joker had made promises that he would make up for the missed opportunity regarding Bruce Wayne. Everyone assumed that Wayne Industries would be the target. The clown never backs down out of promises or threats he makes. He never shows mercy, pity, sympathy, and never regards the wellbeing of another individual. Quite frankly, I had been waiting for the opportunity to fight him. I wanted to have another reason to wring my hands around his neck and end his reign of terror on Gotham once and for all. I waited at the tower all day and most of the night for a week hoping for something to happen. Hoping for _him_ to show up.

I never anticipated… I never even considered the possibility that The Joker would take a different approach and attack the main grounds. Home. Wayne Manor. Its not like Wayne Manor is a hidden location or hard to get to but for some reason, in my mind, it has always been this untouched place. For some reason the criminals in Gotham City had always avoided the place from their robberies or whatever other nonsense. The first sign of trouble came when I tried calling Alfred up and he didn't answer the phone.

It's rare that he misses a call but I settled on the fact that he was out doing an errand or actually taking time for himself to relax. I don't recall ever seeing the old guy ever actually taking time off from work. When I got back to the manor; however, the front door was busted open and red spray paint covered the door. Inside looked like a complete and utter mess with things smashed, broken. Joker paid a visit and probably turned the place into his own funhouse in less than two hours.

None of that mattered; however, because I could feel my heart in my throat as I scavenged the entire manor looking for Alfred and calling out the butler's name. In near hysteria I almost missed the only thing that seemed untouched by the Joker and his thugs. It happened to be something so obviously placed by him as well. A small box wrapped up with a ribbon tied to it as well. I've seen enough of Joker's presents to know better than to simply open it. I brought it down to the only place Joker didn't get into or discover: The Bat Cave.

It might have bothered me for being the first time since my arrival in Gotham City to be in the cave but more pressing and important matters took precedence over my discomfort. The need to find Alfred. I used the familiar tools Batman taught me to use to open the box without harm. For once it wasn't rigged but it did contain a message inside in the form of a DVD. I popped it into the computer and waited for the video to load.

The Joker came into the view, most of his frame blocking out the majority of the image. As he stepped to the side I felt my hopes crush as I catch sight of Alfred, unconscious or dead, being hauled off by two of Joker's thugs. The Joker turns toward the camera with a smile and approaches.

"_Hello to whom it concern! Who IS in charge of the man-child's manor now that he's kicked the can, I wonder? Do you know how uninteresting it is to come to a billionaire's home only to find one person working it? Where's all the maids, the butlers, well… aside from baldy. Where's… oh what's his name…"_

The Joker took a moment to think of the name.

"_Ah yes! Richard Grayson. I hear he's taking charge of things. Well let me formally welcome you to the playing field. Can I call you Dick? Why yes, I think so. See that? Already on a friendly basis. I can tell we're going to be GREAT pals! Oh, sorry about baldy, he was uncooperative so we had to… well.. take him for the time being. SO!"_

The Joker claps his hands and walks away from the camera until his entire form is visible.

"_I decided to redecorate. It seemed a bit dreary. Didn't Wayne have any sense of style? All the blacks, the bleak tones of grays, wooo someone needed to brighten that guy's day up. Oh, I guess it's too late for that, oh well. SO! I made it more lively there."_

The rest of the video wasn't much different. Joker prattled on about Bruce and how he needed to knock alongside the head or an interior decorator. It was about five minutes of nonsense until the Joker gave the address on where to find Alfred if I wanted him back. That's the thing about the Joker, he usually only takes survivors if only to make things interesting or entertaining on his end. Alfred is alive, or was when they carried him off, and the Joker likely expects someone to contact the police and then the police to contact The Batman in response to it all. Fortunately, there was no need but the Joker was going to be sorely disappointed when I get there.

It's been awhile, but after a short phone call for backup, I head back to the room I was using. Inside didn't look much better. Apparently they decided to take a whole can of paint and simply dump it on the bed. I ignored it for now and searched underneath the bed and pulled out my suitcase. Fortunately they hadn't found the suitcase and discovered my suit inside of it. I donned the Nightwing outfit; I'm not going in as The Batman because I'm still not settled on that idea yet. I grabbed a few antidotes for Joker toxin as well. There's no telling whether or not Alfred would need it or not.

I was out long before my backup got into place.

'_Nightwing, come in.'_

"I hear you Oracle."

'_What's your location?'_

"At destination."

I was already at the address but I hadn't gone in yet. I was scouting the area looking for thugs and possible entryways. It's already late into the evening so the night would give me a natural cover but there's not telling what it will be like inside the complex. It was an old apartment building that was no longer being used. The windows are boarded up; although some looked to have fallen off over time.

'_What's the situation look like'_

"No signs of activity. I'm moving in."

'_Careful'_

I didn't need to be told that. I moved to the fire escape attached to the side of the building. I landed soft enough to make the least amount of noise possible before moving to one of the windows on the second floor. I listened for movement of any kind; anything that would tell me that someone is inside the building. I almost stepped away until I heard footsteps. It sounded like someone patrolling the halls. They walked pass the room I'm sitting outside of and it's not until the distant footfalls are completely quieted that I decide to make my move.

"I'm going in. Do you have a layout of this complex?" I take out a tool from my belt and cut the boards.

'_I will in a second… Got it. Four floors, approximately five rooms per floor. Any guess to which they will be holding Alred?'_

"No. But I'm going to work on the first floor. Hold on, I might get a lead after all." Once I'm inside I move across the empty room to the doorway leading to the hall. Whoever had been walking outside of the room was coming back and once they were passing the room I moved like I was trained to. Grabbing them from the shadows, disarming them, and bending them to my mercy on the floor.

"Sh-shit." It's definitely one of the Joker's thugs. Removing the mask doesn't improve the ugly bastard's looks any either.

"Where's the old man?"

"Screw you."

I press my knee into his throat. "Where is he?"

"I ain't telling you anything."

This time a punch to the face is his reward. Another one quickly follows and before I know what the hell is going on, I'm sitting there pummeling the guy. I likely would have continued had it not been for Oracle insistently calling for my attention.

'_Nightwing, Nightwing! RICHARD STOP!'_

A couple of deep breaths and I'm calming down enough. The thug is whimpering and looks far worse than moments ago if the blood covering his face is any indication. I've always complained to Bruce how brutal he can be when he interrogates someone but this…

I get off of him but grab the thug by the collar to haul him to his feet. I look him dead in the eye, "Where?" One last time but I manage to give enough meaning to the word of what could possibly happen next if I don't get the information I need.

"F-first floor. Room three."

"Are you lying?"

"No! Please don't hit me again." A quick strike to the back of his head renders him unconscious.

After taking care of two guards on the first floor, I found the room that was directed. I didn't immediately go in. Training and past experience has taught me to never go in without triple checking everything when it's the Joker. It's not until I'm thoroughly convinced the door is safe that I finally lock picked the door open. The thug hadn't been lying when he said Alfred would be in room three but he could have mentioned that the old timer didn't really need much aid.

Alfred looked like he had just finished incapacitating the guard watching him. A quick survey around the room gave me an idea of what Alfred managed to do. A shattered vase with all the dirt and clay pieces scattered all around the thug's prone form spelled out enough for me, "Well… normally when I save people, they actually need help." I joked lightly.

"Pardon the inconvenience sir. It would seem they estimated a single guard would be enough to watch over me. I'm sure my employer will be most pleased and grateful that you went through the trouble."

I rolled my eyes, "Don't mention it. Any sign of The Joker?"

"No sir, but I did overhear one or two of the gentlemen mention something about The Joker being on the top floor."

I stepped clear of the doorway, "First floor is clear. You should head back."

"Right away sir."

I can't help but smile. If there's one thing Bruce had made sure of, it was that Alfred can take care of himself; at least, that's what I always assumed as the case. It's possible that Alfred also decided on his own to pick up a thing or two to protect himself or he may have always known how to begin with. I never posed the question to Bruce or Alfred but this isn't the first time that Alfred had gotten mixed into things and managed to take care of himself.

I waited for a few minutes on the first floor after Alfred left via the front door to make sure no one followed after him before I moved on. I kept silent and moved up the stairwell to the top floor. There's a serious lack of goons running around the building. I had anticipated a lot more resistance when I arrived. Joker always had enough people to keep Batman and anyone working with him busy before reaching him. While the Joker has learned that his lackeys don't stand a chance to any of us, he does know that they slow us down enough for him to possibly make a getaway. Not that he always runs away. Joker always had a thing with fighting to the end.

The top floor was strangely devoid of goons but the Joker had definitely been there. He left a train of painted arrows to direct me. It's not the first time that Joker has made an obvious trail for us to follow him. All times led into a trap but it also meant we know where to expect them from; so I followed it. I listened and checked in other rooms as I passed to be sure no one is hiding and waiting to pounce. None of the rooms had people and I finally arrived at the locations Joker's path directed me to.

Again I triple check the door for any signs of tampering before I open it. The small apartment is empty but the trail of arrows continues to direct me toward the living room. The lights are all out but I don't hear anything in the apartment. I move toward the t.v. set that his path is directing me to. A piece of paper is on the television _'Turn me on.'_ Is the only message written on it I scout out the room before I finally push the power button on the television. The screen lights up and a camera lifts up from behind the television. The Joker appears on the screen.

He looks to be staring at something and it's only a moment or two before I realize that he's squinting at a screen of his own and likely trying to figure out who is standing in front of the television. "What's this? Why, you're not the Batman!"

"Joker, where are you?"

The Joker laughed from wherever he was safely sitting, "Sorry Bat-wannabe, but you don't have a mic. Can't hear you. Such a shame really. So! New guy in town, eh? Thought you'd take on one of the big ones in town?"

I crossed my arms and smirked. Nightwing is not a famous vigilante. I made it a point to do my best at keeping a low profile and tonight actually marks the first night that I took to the streets of Gotham in this costume. The Joker not recognizing me is not a surprise.

"Costume seeks to lack some flare. Oh well! Since you're a newbie in town, I'll just have to give you a big ol' Gotham Welcome that only I can provide. Shhh! Do you hear that?" He leaned toward his camera and placed his ear against the lens. I trained my own ears to try and hear anything out of the norm. I couldn't hear anything.

"Funny, me neither!" He sat back in his seat and started laughing, "Oh wait! I know why?" He held up a remote and pushed something on it. His image suddenly disappeared to a ten second countdown. I don't even wait to contemplate what it was and booked it to the nearest window, "Oh, I think the timer is a couple sec—!" He doesn't even get to finish the sentence before the whole place goes up. I was mid jump, ready to dive through the window. A second longer and I would have made it through. I still made it through the window, less controlled, and more like a ragdoll being tossed through the air. Everything appeared to be completely white and the only sound I can hear is the deafening ringing of my ears.

Somewhere between being blown out of the building and to my landing I smacked into the adjacent building and landed on top of a dumpster. Not inside, on top, since the lid was closed. I ended up on the pavement and managed to drag myself two feet forward before I became increasingly aware that I'm hurt, bleeding, and phasing in and out of consciousness before everything finally goes completely black.

I think in my unconscious state I thought of Bruce and how he never would have slipped up as badly as I had against the Joker. I suppose it's to be expected considering Bruce had been dealing with the Joker solo before any of his allies came along. I never dealt with Joker alone before; Batman had always been right there all along. I had faced Joker before but when it comes right down to it, Batman had always made the decisions and plans when dealing with the Joker. I knew what to expect but I guess I don't know how to respond to the Joker's plans just yet.

As I try to open my eyes I can only wonder if the Joker's goons had picked me up and dragged me off somewhere or if Alfred had circled around after hearing the explosion to pick me up. I prayed for the latter and when my eyes cleared enough to stare at a ceiling unfamiliar as my own, I began to panic. Then I moved my arms, completely unbounded and my panic subsided just a bit. I'm not tied up but I'm not in a place I recognize either.

I force myself to sit up and realize that I'm on a bed. To the left I see a bowl of reddened white towels and looking down at myself, my torso has been bandaged up. Someone found me and decided to clean me up. I instinctively reach for my mask and find that it's still in place; only that doesn't mean whomever picked me up hadn't looked. They had removed the upper portion of my uniform but I can't really find it in the immediate area anywhere.

I shift to the edge of the bed and force myself to stand. There's a lot less pain than I had imagined there would be. Usually being caught in a blast like that (as I have in the past) would put me out of work for at least a week. The fact that I'm able to stand with minimal pain is uncanny. I move toward the door to the bedroom. I might as well investigate and find who managed to pick me up since I'm able to move after all. That is the plan, up until I open the door and find myself staring down the hall at a rather large dog. It had been laying down a moment before but when it spotted me, it immediately stood up and sprinted at me while barking. I slammed the door shut at the last possible moment and the dog continued to scratch at the door and bark.

I've dealt with dogs before and ferocious ones such as the one on the other side of the door; however, seeing how I'm currently lacking all of my equipment and have recently been blown out of a building, I'd rather not test my chances against something that large. I stumble back toward the bed and take a seat. Moments later the dog quiets down as the owner starts speaking to it. Not yelling at it like most owners would, but simply speaking to it to calm it down. It's a woman's voice and I feel a building sense of dread as that voice sounds hauntingly familiar.

Even without her opening the door and stepping in, I already know who it is; yet there she stands, with the dog at her side, Raven. She looks a little pass the point of annoyance. Currently dressed in black sweatpants and an oversized shirt, she looks like she might have just crawled out of bed. There's no clock in the room but the light outside tells me that it's late or early. Probably early…too early. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail; likely a quick fix to bedhead if I were to take any guess. Right now all she's doing is glaring at me and I find myself almost fidgeting under her gaze.

"Nice…dog." I comment lamely as I nod to it. Said dog growls in response, or maybe it's Raven.

"Could you have picked a better time to roam? Or is two in the morning normal for you people?"

"It's only two?" I'm surprised to say the least. I must be getting tough if I hadn't been knocked out that long.

She rolls her eyes, "You've been laying dead for over twenty-four hours."

"…." That makes a lot more sense now that I think about it.

"Ace, go to bed." She touched the dog lightly on the head and the dog glances at me for a moment before he scampers out of the room. She closes the door once the dog is out of the room.

"Sure you trust a stranger without your dog around, miss?"

"Sure getting blown up by The Joker is the best way protect the company?"

"So you did look." I lower my gaze to the floor.

"Actually I didn't." I glance up to see her looking smug, "But it's not hard to figure out. Same build, same face, same voice, combine that with the fact that you looked not even the least bit confused by seeing me."

"Maybe you should be doing detective work instead of secretary work." I grumbled before peeling my mask off and tossing it on the bed.

"So what's the strange uniform supposed to stand for?" I stare at her in response, "What?"

"You don't know?"

"Why would I?" She lifts an eyebrow in response.

I am positively floored at this. Has she seriously cut any and all ties with her life as a Titan, as a vigilante that she hasn't heard through any of the networks about Nightwing? Surely she has kept in touch with _someone_; not me obviously, but there has to be someone out there that she's been speaking to.

"Nightwing… you seriously never heard of Nightwing?"

"Is 'Nightwing' famous like 'Batman'?" I rub my face with a hand as I try not to just groan out of frustration. "So what's the insignia on the uniform?"

"A bird."

She rolls her eyes at me, "Gathered it wasn't a bat. What kind of bird?"

'A Robin' I almost answer just to spell it out to her but decided that I wanted to try a different approach. "Raven." I respond easily and give no outward appearance that I may know more than I let on. Actually, thinking on it now, the bird actually does look more like a raven than a robin. The way it pattern dives and the swings seem to stretch with the dark blue color, it almost like raven's soul-self. I hadn't been thinking about it at the time, I just wanted something edgier than what I had. Strange…

Unfortunately, the realization that I have doesn't seem to be the same for her. Raven has always been good at controlling her emotions and her reactions. Over the years I had been able to get a gist of the subtleties to her expressions but years of being apart have seemed to kill my senses to it all. I can't even read her now. She just looks bored more than anything.

"Outfit is a bit cheesy," is her only response.

I can't take it anymore. She has never been this oblivious and it's killing me. I stand up, "Do you really have no idea who I am?"

"If I can't figure it out even after you removed the mask, I'd just off myself."

"That's not what I'm talking about." I move toward her, "Raven, it's me. I know it's been years but how can you not know it's me!" And there it is again, that dull hum in the back of my head as if the old bond were trying to stitch itself back together.

""Why should I remember?" She's glaring again and I find myself taking a step back in response. "I know exactly who you are _Dick._ It's not that hard to figure out. You're the one who always tried to keep your identity secret, and since I want nothing to do with that life anymore, than I might as well just ignore the fact."

So… she has known? This whole time? She's just been ignoring the fact, just like that? Did we all mean so little to her that she would simply try and forget about us? I fall back and take a seat on the bed anymore, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"And then what? Have you try and convince me to join some group and fight crime again? No thanks."

"Why are you suddenly against fighting for justice?"

"I always wanted was to live a half decent life somewhere."

"So that's why you disappeared?"

"I didn't want any strings attached; otherwise someone would come looking for me for help. I did my part. I fought crime. There's other people that can do it. I just want to live. I cut my ties and tried to remove things that I can't get rid of." The bond.

"So… you're just going to stand there and tell me that, even though you are capable of helping people, you'd rather not bother because there's always someone out there who can do it." What about Bruce? The Batman. The one she kept saying would keep the city safe would fight all the crime. Does she not realize how ridiculous she's sounding right now? How can she not know about Bruce being Batman if she knows who I am? "If you know who I am, don't you know who Bruce was?" I'm angry, I can feel the anger boiling inside again ready to burst. This, this is not what I expected from her. "If Richard Grayson was Batman's sidekick, Robin once, don't you realize who Batman was? He's dead! There is no Batman. There is no one in this city 'that can do it'. He's dead, Raven! Dead! That's why I'm here!"

She's looking away and to the floor. Her arms slowly wrap themselves around her front as if she's suddenly cold, "….I realized that for the first time, last night." She answered quietly.


End file.
